Book Review: I’m Glad My Mom Died
“A little girl shouldn’t have to worry about her entire family”
Trigger warning: This book mentions child abuse, verbal, mental and physical abuse and eating disorders
Boy, where do I even start with this one? I guess the title – because as book titles go “I’m Glad My Mom Died” is quite the attention grabber – like, by the balls. And the title isn't even the most heart-breaking statement out of this whole text. Trust me, you’re in for a ride. From being shoved into acting at six years old to believing that calorie restriction at age eleven will keep you young, more importantly, it will make your hoarder, narcissistic mommy happy. Who cares about the child, right?
Jennette McCurdy is one hell of a writer. Her sentences are short and snappy. To the point. Why try to be gentle? Her mommy certainly wasn’t. It packs a punch and it's unyielding. Yet why am I also laughing? Why is the narrative so dark yet also makes me laugh? I guess trauma gives you a sense of humour. Or maybe it just gives you a more acute sense of sarcasm. Like of course I'm so lucky to be told that maybe I’ll get my own show so that I’ll pronounce loyalty to The Creator who is so obtusely abusive. So. Damn. Lucky.
Understanding trauma and its repercussions is a process. In order to understand trauma, you have to identify the root causes. McCurdy’s first therapist got close to making her understand. But the narrative of her mother is so closely woven with “mommy knows what's best for me- she wanted me to have the life she didn’t”. Yet why make a child responsible for the bills getting paid? And better yet, why blame a child for her cancer coming back?
The sad thing about this book (believe it or not) is that McCurdy is left with more questions than answers: why the need for total control, did she care about my happiness when I was so concerned with hers? Why did nothing make her happy and why didn’t she tell me my biological father isn't the man who lived in the same house as us?
But we are left with one small positive, if mommy dearest was still alive, McCurdy would still be bulimic, and her mental health and self-worth would be dangerously low. She would not be healthy; she would not be a happy human being. She would be controlled, measured, weighed, scrutinised and shamed. But now that Mommy is dead, no matter the anger, no matter how much she misses her. she is finally free to be her own person.